


Marr

by MonstrousAffections1



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anxiety, Dysfunctional Family, Memories, References to Depression, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 13:45:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14695428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonstrousAffections1/pseuds/MonstrousAffections1
Summary: Marr... ruin, impair; disfigure, flaw, blemish, scar, mutilate. This is what Marr means. It is why she chose the name. But she never told anyone.





	Marr

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mazanica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazanica/gifts).



> Marr. That is my secret name. Don't tell anyone shh...

My name is Marr. I call myself this because it is what I am. Marred. No one else knows this. Because if they did they'd begin to talk at me telling me how I'm not marred and try to shove their words into my head.

But this is one of the things I am that no one seems to see. They do not see in my mind, if they did they'd know how dark I am. How Monstrous I am. I call myself Marr because it means to be scarred, impaired, flawed and blemished. To be hurt.

It hasn't always been this way. But in a way it always has, I was just too young and innocent to know any better.

When I was a child my father use to fight with my mother. Verbally and physically. That was the first mar. At first I learned to fear my father. I was always told with some authority how lucky I was to have a father cause some kids didn't have one. Well, even at that age I thought that I envied those kids. What with all those nights I laid awake in bed listening to screaming and yelling. Listened to him scream at my mother an sometimes hurt her. I learned to be silent at night. I learned to remain silent whenever they fought.

Except when he turned and yelled at me, then I would cry. But the problem with crying, is that they tell you to stop crying but you can't, once you start it's hard to stop.

The second mar was when I went to school, I never noticed this mar until later. When I was beginning to loose my innocence. No one ever wanted to be my friend. Those who did didn't really like me they just wanted someone to play with. But I was always laughed at by the pretty little girls. As I got older, when my Autism began to hinder my school work in year one. The laughing developed into name calling, ugly, stupid, weirdo, freak, loser. I ignored it all. But then in year four I moved schools. It was then I started to notice. I found the children hear to be much cruller. On my first day I was bullied by older boys. Singing a annoying song over and over until I cried in frustration and anger. It was then the first time I saw them for who they really were. I lost my innocent and ability to see good in everything that day. 

I became angry, very angry. I became aggressive towards everyone. Those who tried to be friendly, I shunned, I didn't know any better. I was so angry, it was then I realized I have been bullied all my life but had been blind to it. I tightened my defences and decided that offence was the best defence and I began to lash out at everyone except for my family and a select few. I growled like a wild animal and hissed like a cat. I began to hate everyone in the school. It seemed that all the adults forgot that I had been traumatized on my first day and began to view me as the bad guys even though to them I was polite and well mannered. The teacher was a bitch. She took every turn to humiliate me and prove me wrong. I instantly hated her.

I made one 'friend'. Someone who I thought was a friend for years. Until one day they decided they weren't my friend anymore. When I graduated and moved into high school I decided I was better off on my own. Me Myself and I.

The third Mar was that I became so solitary that I began to hate humans all together. In high school the bullying got worse. Bitch, Slut, Dumb Cunt, Devil Worshiper. I blocked it all out, I stopped getting angry, I became numb on the inside. Insults stopped bothering me because I payed no attention. I stayed in the Library at recess and lunch. I only wore black if I could help it. Long trousers and a black hoodie, often with it pulled up. I sat up front of the class and did my work, having improved by this point. I had become rather good at writing and grew a passion for stories. Both reading them and writing them. My first taste at a good book was the Warriors series by Erin Hunter. My parents had stopped fighting except for every five months or so. It would start as a simple argument. But it would continue for several days, close to a week. I always knew when it was going to get physical, I could feel it. Often in in the early morning or late at night. It always had a calmness before. A calm before the storm.

I contemplated self harm several times but always decided against it, simply because I didn't see any point in it.

When I went to a different school, a college that did years eleven and twelve is when the bullying finally stopped after I told off a disruptive fat kid in the middle of class. Using some words I had learned thanks to Andrew Hussy. Nook licker and Bulge sucking moronic douche bag just to name a few. Everyone left me alone after that and I focused on just getting the work done. I still spent all my time in the library, but this time I was hidden between the book shelves. But then something strange began to happen.

The numbness went away. And I began to think on all those things those kids had called me over the years. Bitch, Slut, Dumb Cunt, and among other things. And the hurt came.

I began to feel hurt. Hurt for everything. Not anger, but legitimate hurt. I felt not insulted but like I wanted to cry. But I never did.

It was when I graduated school all together is when the final Mar set itself in place.

Fear of men. In school. Year eight and nine. We were 'educated' about sex and relationships and told with some authority about what a relationship should be like. But now. Now when I think of myself being in a relationship with a male this is what I think of.

Fear. I see myself being screamed and yelled at while I cower in the corner crying. I imagine being beat with a belt. I imagine fear and violence.

 

This is why I call myself Marr. Cause it is what I am, Marred.


End file.
